To Stand, To Walk, To Keep Moving Forward
by YAJJ
Summary: Ed has tried to kill himself three times in his life. Only two people have been there every time. Three-shot Parental!RoyEd, Parental!RoyAl. Rated for mentions of self-harm.
1. To Stand

To Stand, To Walk, To Keep Moving Forward

**Hey all! Guess who's back from the virtual FMA grave! XD Sorry, I just... well, got out of the FMA mood, I guess. no excuses. The updates to Six-Year-Olds Are Handfuls and Mock Crash should be coming soon. Expect Six-Year-Olds Are Handfuls first, though, because I'm just... in that mood. Also, an FMA multichapter fic starring Roy, Riza, and Maes should be coming sometime! It's in the works!  
**

**Read on, my dear readers, and you know how much I love it when you review. **

"He's this way," Pinako held the door open for him, stepping to the side, her head low. She looked nervous, afraid, and very, very worried.

Coal eyes gave her a silent thank you. The man nodded at her and stepped in, followed closely by his blond lieutenant.

They were just inside, sitting on a couch. Two blonds sat there, the girl cradling the boy like he was a helpless child, and a suit of armor stood above them behind it, its head lowered.

Mustang could never explain to anyone how glad he was that someone had offered he and Hawkeye a place to stay, in Resembool, so that they wouldn't have such a long train ride from this dirty, country town to bustling East City. If that hadn't happened, if Pinako hadn't been so kind as to offer them dinner (because, she claimed, she always made too much, enough for twice the number of those eating anyway), if she hadn't insisted that Edward and Alphonse eat with them as well, even though one couldn't eat and the other pretty much refused to, something very bad could have happened.

If he hadn't stooped to inform Pinako to keep an eye on Edward, because either he was normally the moodiest kid on earth, or he was having an emotional breakdown, and if Pinako hadn't then heeded his warning, Edward may have died.

Edward Elric, the only person who knew how to bond Alphonse's soul to the armor that he was in, one of only a few people who had ever figured out how to perform human transmutation, may have succeeded in killing himself.

The girl looked up at them as they approached. Tears were trickling down her cheeks, obviously feeling for her lost friend. She squeezed the boy tighter, watching them both. Mustang knew that feeling that he saw in her eyes. Despair. She probably thought that they were going to come for the boy, that they would take him away. But no, of course they wouldn't. Edward's mind was too fragile at the moment, to take him from the only people who properly cared for him would be like asking him to die.

Hawkeye smiled at the young girl. She lifted a hand and twitched her fingers just slightly, but the girl seemed to get the message. She hesitantly withdrew her arms from the boy's body and stood, hugging herself. She signaled to the suit of armor, which then nodded and followed her silently.

Mustang would have been surprised if he hadn't been there yesterday. Instead, the surprise was squashed by guilt. He hadn't given the armor a second glance, had completely forgotten that the soul of a ten-year-old child was bonded to that armor. He told himself to offer the armor a greeting, perhaps when they were done with the shaking boy, or at the very least the next time he saw him. If not for that armor, Edward would probably have died.

As the armor, Alphonse, walked past him, he gently patted his back, enough that the boy inside could probably hear it if he couldn't feel it.

Pinako led the girl, Alphonse, Hawkeye, and the dog outside, and for that, Mustang was very grateful.

"…Edward Elric?" he paused, waiting for his words to sink in.

Slowly, very slowly, Edward lifted his gaze to watch him, waiting to be yelled at. Mustang offered a gentle-but sadly mostly careless-smile to the boy, but the boy continued to stare. Mustang sighed. "How are you feeling, Edward?"

Edward shook his head minutely.

Mustang sighed. He set his briefcase on the ground, glad that he had thought to bring some of the medical supplies that he owned. Out of the two of them, he was better at this all than Hawkeye, though he knew that she would soon surpass him.

"Why are you doing this?" Edward asked him, his voice muffled by the blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders. He'd buried his face in the corner by his only hand, by then.

"Because you're injured, hurting, and I know how to sew up cuts like these," Mustang sighed. He removed the packet of anesthesia from the case, and swiped it all around the three cuts that Edward had made in his thigh.

The boy shivered, attempting to tug away from the fair-skinned man, but Mustang refused such a thing.

"And… and because I know how you feel." The half-Xingese man admitted. "I know what it feels like, to think that everything that you did was wrong, that everything is your fault."

Edward bit his lip, watching this strange man in fascination. Only the day before, he'd been cold and calculating, had nearly attacked him, and had offered Ed a way to get himself killed. And now… he was helping to keep him alive? "So why can't Pinako—"

"Does Ms. Pinako know how that feels? I'm not only going to help your physical injuries, boy." Mustang clarified.

Edward puffed out a cheek, looking away from the man. He winced when something poked into his thigh, but thank the Gate he could barely feel it through the anesthesia. He refused to look at Mustang as the man stitched up his cuts, and even after.

They sat still for a few minutes, and then Mustang heaved himself up to sit beside Edward. Feeling awkward, and like he was already doing something he shouldn't, he gently put one arm around the boy.

The boy winced and looked away, even when Mustang held him tighter. Edward sniffled, looking around.

"You know, Edward, when I was feeling like that… like I'd screwed over everyone in the whole world, there wasn't a lot of ways that I could feel any better. Much like you, I went to a secluded room. I had my pistol at this time, and was already aiming it at my head, even about to pull the trigger, when someone burst into the room like his life depended on it. Though, it wasn't his that did… _mine_ did." Mustang paused for effect, and then continued, "It turned out to be my best friend, with my subordinate right behind him. They talked me out of it, and helped me through the rest of it. Slowly, everything got easier to handle, I came more in control of my emotions, and this want to die slipped away."

Edward didn't reply.

"Do… Edward, do you know how long that took me? _I_ don't even know how long it took me. It felt like forever. But it would have been a lot longer, if Maes and Riza hadn't been there for me, if they hadn't let me talk it out."

"…I thought _they_ were the ones talking…" Edward murmured uselessly.

"Well… They were. As was I."

Edward looked to him, only for a second, and then shook his head. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked sadly, nuzzling into the blanket again.

Mustang squeezed Edward's shoulder gently and tugged him even closer. "Because, just as I needed someone, you need someone. You've done a lot, _seen_ a lot, and you're only eleven years old. You need someone just as much as I did. And let me say this, I _really_ needed someone."

"…Bastard." Edward sniffled and tugged the blanket up to his eyes as water filled them and immediately started down his cheeks.

Mustang smiled and held Edward a little tighter, still. He felt the boy crumble beneath him, and so turned the young man against him. He'd never been terribly good at the whole "comfort" thing, especially when it was of a small child, but he'd do what he could.

"It's all my fault!" Edward gasped, finding himself disappearing within the folds of Mustang's jacket. He rested his forehead against the man's chest, feeling his heartbeat rather than hearing it.

"Both you and Alphonse participated in the transmutation," Mustang replied, nearly emotionless.

"B-but I've trapped him in that _thing_! And besides, _I_ wanted to do the transmutation! He wasn't as sure, he kept trying to tell me otherwise… dammit, Al, why didn't you try _harder_?" Edward gasped, shuddering heavily.

Mustang shook his head. "You both participated in it. You were only trying to protect him." He sighed.

Edward shook his head as well, looking up at the man with too-bright gold eyes. "I _hurt_ him… I've been able to fix things that I've done wrong in the past, how am I supposed to fix this?" he asked pathetically.

Mustang looked down at him, and said some of the most helpful words that he'd ever heard, though with a bit of a twist. "Well, here's a start. I can't tell you that, Edward, but I can tell you this much. You've got to stand up and walk. Keep moving forward. You've got a good heart," he touched the boy's chest gently, poking him, "and a good soul," he poked each of his temples at the same time, crunching the boy a bit closer to him to do so, "and one hell of a brain."

Edward couldn't stop himself from releasing a laugh when Mustang planted his fingertips against his head. He watched him, waiting for him to continue.

"You've got to use them to the best of your ability." Mustang finished. He rubbed Edward's head, gently tugged the young boy from him, and stood. "Feeling better? Should I go fetch anyone that you want to talk to? Like a walking suit of armor, perhaps?"

Edward paused, sniffled, and nodded. "Y-yeah. Thanks…"

Mustang nodded at him in reply, knowing that the thanks was for more than just retrieving his brother. "I'll be seeing you soon, I hope, Edward," he said in farewell.

"…" Edward merely waved respectfully, paused, and saluted with his left hand. With an amused chuckle and a gentle smile, Mustang saluted in reply. Then he turned and left to retrieve what was left of Edward's brother, and head home.

**Well? How was it? I'd love it if you could review, please and thank you! Next chapter... Nina!**

**Until next time,**

**~~YAJJ**


	2. To Walk

To Stand, To Walk, To Keep Moving Forward

**Hmm... I haven't even touched Mock Crash since I updated... actually, I haven't touched much but this one. Oops! Oh well, that will come when it comes. My creative juices are flowing towards this story. And I'm not one hundred percent about that multichapter fic. It might happen, it might not. So far, it has a crap start, which will need to be worked on. Again, it will come when it comes.**

**Read on, my lovelies! I personally love this chapter, but I think that the next one will be my absolute favorite... I can't wait!**

No longer, when Ed thought of Nina, did he think of the little girl. He tried, goddammit, he tried like crazy to think of that little girl and her dog as two separate beings, but it didn't take long to think of what that bastard of a father had done to her, had turned her into.

"Brother? Brother, please… l-listen to me! You have to listen to me! Let me help you! Don't make me call the Colonel!"

Please, as if Alphonse would do that. As if he'd go so far.

_He will. You know he will. Pinako did it last time, and he'll do it this time_.

He winced when a cloth touched his bleeding wrist, and looked up into the soulfire eyes of his shaking brother, who was trying to quell his own shaking but failing miserably. Al looked desperately like he wanted to cry, but he couldn't since he was trapped in that body.

_The one that you put him in, you know_.

"Brother, come on! _Work_ with me, for god's sake!" Al snapped. He was on his knees now, trying to grab at Ed's wrist as the older boy pulled it away. He kept shaking, still, and probably wouldn't stop for a while. "You'll bleed out if you keep swinging it around, and then you'll be dead, and _then_ what am I supposed to do?"

Ed stopped, and then let Al take his wrist, not wanting to put his brother through that. Al obediently dabbed at the wrist and then wrapped it. When he was done, he dropped his hands to his knees, still shaking.

"Al…"

"What were you thinking, Ed?" Al whispered, the pain in his voice very clear. His voice even caught in his throat, something that Ed had only heard happen a few times. This only happened when his grief and anguish was very, incomparably clear. It made Ed's guilt intensify.

"That we'd failed N-Nina, too badly." Ed explained, barely above a whisper.

"So how would _this_ fix it?" asked Al purposefully.

Ed sighed but didn't answer. He knew that it wouldn't. But he didn't care, goddammit, he just wanted all of the guilt to be gone! He'd failed his mother, he'd failed Al, and _now_ he had failed Nina! Who else mattered anymore? He'd let down nearly every person that mattered to him, if he didn't stop himself now he'd have hurt _all_ of them! Why couldn't Al see that?

"How would killing yourself have fixed what happened to Nina, brother? How would that have helped us get our bodies back?" Al continued adamantly. There was betrayal in his voice. Deep, unfaltering betrayal that Ed would rather be dead and so let his brother die or live on forever in an empty, maddening shell than take on the guilt of letting someone die when there had never really been anything that they could do about it.

Sure, Al was upset by this turn of events. And, what's worse, he couldn't let it out like Ed could. He couldn't cry about it, he couldn't hurt himself, or make himself bleed, to get rid of those nagging emotions. No… he'd be stuck with those emotions forever, or at least until he got his body back, at which point he planned to just cry for hours, and probably not stop until he was dangerously close to dying of dehydration. And at that point, he wouldn't care, because those emotions had been trapped in him for so long.

Either way, Al was just as upset as Ed, if not even more so. But that didn't mean that he'd ever kill himself. He could, if he really wanted, but he probably couldn't be pulled from it. Just jump in a river or something, wash away or alter the blood seal somehow, and he was dead.

It was so easy for him to do; it was a good thing that he would never _ever_ do that to his brother Ed.

Ed still didn't reply.

Al gave a huffy sounding sigh and stood. "I'm calling the Colonel." He said.

"No, don't! I don't want a lecture." Ed quickly attempted to stand, but he was pushed down by his brother. "C'mon Al, you know that I hate that bastard, he won't do me any good. I don't want to get hurt, and you know he's gonna get all loud and yell-y. He's gonna _murder_ my ears…"

"Do you think that I wanted that?" Al asked solemnly, suddenly eerily silent.

"…Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Do you think that _I_ wanted to get hurt? Brother, it hurts me to see you like this. And then, even though you know that I'm all ears, you still won't talk to me, you'd rather die than talk to me." Al continued.

Ed watched his brother, and then lowered his head in embarrassment. He didn't reply for a few moments, but then lifted his head to watch Al dial Mustang's office. "Fine, let's talk, Al. I'll talk to you, I just…"

"You're too late, Ed. You had a chance. It's called tough love, brother. Oh, yes, Colonel? It's Alphonse Elric… um, Ed did… well, something stupid. Can you come down here? He wouldn't talk to me before, so I thought… oh, I'm sorry, Colonel, but… yes, I think you know what I mean by something stupid. Please? Thank you. See you soon."

Edward slumped into his bed pathetically and glared at his younger brother. "Not fair." He spat.

"Don't care." Al replied.

It only took ten minutes for a furious pounding to come to the door, followed by a quiet call, "Fullmetal, Alphonse, you in there?"

Alphonse quickly went to the door and opened it. Ed glanced at it, groaning and falling against his pillow when he saw the sharply dressed colonel that Al had called standing there, his fist still raised to knock. "Thank you so much, Colonel, I'm so sorry for interrupting you. But…" Al pointed at Ed, who ducked further against the bed.

Mustang looked down at Ed, up at Al, and then down at Ed again. He sighed. "It's fine. Just a meeting with the Führer. No problem at all."

Al didn't even bother to look ashamed as he normally would have. Ed was more important than the Führer. Ed needed to be fixed, now. The Führer was only that, the Führer.

Mustang patted Al's metal shoulder, just as he'd done all those years ago, and softly assured him that Ed would be alright. "Why don't you wait for us in the hall? I'll be out when we're done."

"Done with what? I don't need your help, bastard." Ed spat. He crossed his arms, tucking his knees against his chest, making himself as small as possible.

Mustang ignored him, pushing Al toward the door. "I'll be out when we're done." He repeated.

Al looked at Ed, and then Mustang. He remembered the same tactic that Mustang had used, the day after he'd found them, when all but Mustang and Ed had been shoved out of the room. It had worked wonders then, so why wouldn't it now? He nodded, giving all of his trust to his brother's commanding officer, and stepped outside.

Mustang nodded in approval, closing the door shut behind the armor boy. He turned around and stared at Ed, his hands on his hips. After a completely unawkward silence that lasted for two minutes, Mustang sighed. He lifted his hand to press the fingertips to his face, and shook his head. "Edward. Edward, Edward, Edward. Let me see… you're scaring the shit out of your brother, making him worry, making _me_ worry, making me skip an important meeting with Führer King Bradley, making everyone at the office worry… and making me come out here, in the _pouring_ rain, to make sure that your ass was okay. What have you to say for yourself?" he asked.

Edward didn't say anything for another minute. He eventually curled even tighter—so much tighter, in fact, that it made Roy's back ache just thinking about it—and _laughed_ to himself. "I wish that I'd done a better job."

Mustang froze. It was astounding, how the two of them working together had settled this kind of fear so deeply into his soul. He forced himself to release a deep sigh, took two steps forward, and knelt beside the bed. He pushed on Edward's side—as gently as physically possible—until the fifteen-year-old turned to face him. Moist golden eyes met his dark ones.

"Well? You gonna yell at me and go to your_ all important meeting_ or what?" Ed demanded.

Mustang swallowed deeply. All formalities dropped. Edward wasn't Major or Fullmetal, or pipsqueak, short stack, or any other demeaning nicknames. He was Edward. Or Ed. And, in a few minutes, Mustang wouldn't be Colonel or bastard or Flame, or anything else that Edward could come up with. He may even cease to be Mustang, and would only be known as Roy. "No, Ed, I'm not going to yell at you." He breathed gently.

Edward snorted, burying his face into the pillow. "Yeah, right. And I'm not the most excitable person you've ever met," he replied.

"One of, that's for sure," Mustang chuckled. He regained his seriousness again, dropping all pretense of relaxation. Edward had to know that he cared whether the teen lived or died. "In all seriousness, Edward, I'm not about to start yelling at you, nor will I leave you, just to go to a dumb meeting." He assured.

"Well, why not? I don't need your help!" Edward exclaimed distraughtly, knowing that he would be entirely unable to convince Mustang of this.

Mustang promptly tapped his wrists, gently enough that he wouldn't harm the child. "This tells me otherwise."

Ed tugged his wrists away and glared at the man. "Whatever, Mustang. I don't need you."

"What's that? That's not what you said four years ago…" Mustang practically pouted at him.

Ed blushed. "W-well, I was eleven then! I'm fifteen now, I can handle myself!"

Mustang rolled his eyes. He stood, only to sit on the bed and set his hand gently upon Edward's golden locks. "Edward, tell me what this is about." He said, any traces of joking and laughter gone from his voice.

Edward stopped, looked up at Mustang, and sighed. He sat up and tucked his knees against the chest, sitting beside the man. He knew how serious Mustang was being, and he knew that the man wouldn't leave until he had helped… at least a little bit. "…I failed." He said.

"Did you, now? What did you fail at?" Mustang pressed.

"Protecting Nina. I mean, Al and I were in his mansion the whole time, we could have stopped him, we should have noticed that something bad was going to happen!"

"You and Al spent your entire time in the library and around that little girl, Ed. There was no way that you could have known that Tucker was going to do anything to her." Mustang tried.

"But I _should_ have known!" Ed cried. He pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes, squeezing his golden eyes shut.

Mustang frowned at him. He lowered his hand from Ed's head and draped it around his shoulders. Last time, he had forced this touch. This time, he was waiting for Edward to accept it.

And accept it, he did. Edward leaned against Mustang briefly, and then he pressed his head to the man's side. He didn't cry—not yet—but he still seemed to want this kind of comfort. He didn't say anything; just let himself shake against the man.

After five minutes of silent shaking, Mustang opened his mouth to speak, "Edward, you know how I always treat you, and the others at the office: Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery. Right? You've seen it often enough." He stated.

Edward nodded minutely.

"Right. Why do you think that I always act like that?"

Edward sniffled pathetically. He shrugged his shoulders and let them sag. "I… I dunno. Because you're a manipulative bastard? I don't… I don't know." He offered Mustang a tiny smile, looking up at the colonel.

Mustang rolled his eyes. "Thanks." He sighed, shaking his head. "No, it's not because I'm a manipulative bastard," he took a small pause, "even if I am." He squeezed Edward's shoulder gently. "Would you have ever guessed that I do it to protect you? I… manipulate you into throwing fits to turn other prying eyes away from trying to get you under their command. I screw up around Hawkeye to make sure that she stays close to me. And as much as I gripe about it, I take as much paperwork as I can, to keep the others safe. Would you have ever guessed that?"

Edward stopped, thought about it, and finally shook his head. "No, guess not. So?" He had to admit though, watching Mustang now, and judging by how well he knew him, he ought not to have been surprised by this. At least, not with Hawkeye and the others. Making him throw fits, though? That wasn't a little… over the top?

"No, I didn't think so. And you're around me a lot more than you were around Tucker. People have 'ulterior motives', Edward. Things that they are going to do, that they don't want others to see. So they deliberately hide them. That's what Tucker did with the transmutation. He didn't want you to know about it, so he didn't let you and Al—or even Nina, probably—see that he wanted to do anything more than help the two of you. Honestly, I'm not surprised at all, that you didn't know that he would do that. I'm surprised that you managed to figure out what he'd done as quickly as you did. And you should be proud of that, Edward. If not for you, we would never have figured out how he made a chimera that understands human speech, nor would we have discovered that Tucker essentially murdered his own wife and daughter. If not for you, he could still be roaming free, to do this to some other innocent people, just to keep his State Alchemist's license."

"Don't feel proud. I was still too late." Edward muttered. He set his chin on his knees and swiped at his cheeks, wiping away potentially nonexistent tears.

"Perhaps you were a little late. You were still there. That's more than can be said for myself." Mustang squeezed Ed's shoulder again, and tugged the boy against him tightly.

Ed took a long pause to think over Mustang's words. Then, he sighed and curled even tighter against him. He turned his face into the lapels of the colonel's uniform, trying not to weep openly, only halfway succeeding. Finally, tears of grief and pain spilled over his eyelids and onto Mustang's jacket.

Mustang held Edward even tighter. He swung his feet up onto the bed and tugged the golden child onto his lap, allowing him to straddle his legs. He rubbed his clipped nails up and down Edward's spine, feeling the breaking boy bunch his jacket into his hands and try to calm himself.

Edward tried and failed over and over again to get himself to stop crying. But every time he did, he thought of why he was crying in the first place, which made him think of Nina, which made him think of Al, and then the transmutation all those years ago, and then Mustang appearing on the Rockbell's doorstep—and he'd just start all over again.

"That's right, Ed. Just let it _all out_…" Mustang purred softly. He started gently flicking the tail of Ed's braid, resting his chin on top of the boy's head oh so gently.

After at least a half an hour of crying, Edward managed to completely dry himself out. Even after the tears stopped coming, he sat there and shook on his superior's lap, glad for what would only seem like a few times that Mustang was there for him, and would have his back. He gulped loudly, gasping and swallowing all of the air that he could. Finally, he pulled away from Mustang, muttering apologies to the elder for his sullied jacket and for wasting his time and for things that had nothing to do with the man.

Mustang brushed off each apology with simple, entirely heartfelt words. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Edward. Ed gratefully took it and wiped his face, clearing away all tears and grime. He looked down at his bandaged wrist, frowned, and dropped it onto Mustang's stomach. Then he said, with more sincerity than he had used all day, "I… I'm sorry."

Mustang lifted one hand to gently rub the teen's head, chuckling when Ed's head tilted with each rub. "Look, Edward. If there's something bothering you, you need to talk about it. Okay? I am one hundred and ninety-three percent certain that Al would rather have you talking your problems away than… cutting them away." He said softly.

"Yeah… I know." Edward looked toward the door. He slowly climbed off of Mustang's lap and sat on the mattress, wincing when the man leaned forward to rub the life back into his right leg. "S-sorry, if I hurt you…" he pouted pitifully.

Mustang looked up at him, and shook his head. "Not at all, kid." He said, surprised when Ed didn't rise to the occasion and smack him for the nickname, "Just lost the feeling in it."

Ed nodded minutely. He glanced to the window, glad that the curtains were pulled shut. Then, he looked at his superior, who sat up and crossed his legs, waiting for him to say something. He swiped his flesh hand under his nose, sniffling. "Um… I think I'm better, now. You can… you can go back, now. 'M okay." He whispered.

"You… sure?" Mustang seemed very uncertain, not wanting to leave his little, self-harming subordinate quite yet.

Edward quickly nodded once more. "Mhmm. I'm… I really am sure." He said.

Mustang closed his fist, looking at the young man before him. Then he swung his legs out from beneath him, and to the floor, standing up. "I'll be talking to your brother for a bit, and then he'll be back in here. If you dare try anything in that time, just know that he and I will be in here, and I won't hesitate to drag you to my place if I must." He said.

Edward paused, but then he nodded. "That… seems fair." He said.

Mustang watched the boy for a second, and then sat on the bed again. He reached over and squeezed Ed's flesh shoulder. "Edward, I want you to know something." He said.

"…Something, like what?" Edward asked softly.

"I know how you're feeling, you know. I recall telling you that, years ago. But… if you ever feel like this, like living isn't worth it anymore, you come talk to me. I don't care what the occasion is, I don't care _why_, it may be as small as someone called you short at the wrong time," again, Ed didn't rise to the occasion, "And I may be in the middle of the most important meeting of my life. If you feel like you need to end it, come to the office. Your case will be at top priority, I'll make sure that the others know it, too. Okay? You _can_ come talk to me. My ears are open to you."

Edward looked away from the man. Blushing just a little, he leaned forward and trapped the man in a hug. The blush faded as he became comfortable once more and completely diminished when the hug was received positively and returned with yet another hug from the Flame. And finally, Mustang wasn't the Flame to him, nor was he the manipulative bastard that he always saw. He was ceasing to even be Mustang; Ed thought that they were onto first-name basis right now. "Th-thanks… Roy."

* * *

Al tucked his hands behind his back and swerved away from the door when it opened, trying to convince the black-haired man that he _hadn't_ been secretly listening in on the conversation the whole time.

Mustang lifted his eyebrows at the metal boy and shook his head, apparently amused. He leaned back against the wall when he shut the door, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Er, sir…" Al tried to defend himself weakly.

Mustang held up his hand, asking for quiet, and then opened his mouth, "Don't apologize, Alphonse. You have every right to listen in on this; he's your brother." He said.

Al searched his eyes for any hint of a lie, but then nodded. "Thank you, sir." He said.

Mustang nodded to him affirmatively. He slid down the wall until he was sitting against it, his hands still in his pockets.

Al slowly settled beside him, watching him, waiting for any sign of burden, or of speaking, or anything. When none came, he gave a noise similar to an anxious gulp, and said, "thanks, again, for coming out, Colonel. He really does need this. He needed you here, just like last time." He said.

Mustang nodded. "I'd do it again a hundred times, Alphonse. What I told him wasn't a lie."

"Er, right." Al nodded. He continued watching the man, and then glanced down the hallway on either side. "Are there… like, a lot of suicides here, in the barracks? Would they have thought anything of it, if he'd succeeded?" he asked.

Mustang shrugged. "There are a number of them, when things just become too much, and there's no one for them, like you are for Ed, to stop them. I'd like to think that they'd have thought something of the great People's Alchemist killing himself. But, perhaps not." He sighed.

"Oh…"

Mustang nodded without a word. He looked first away from the armor boy, but thought better of it, turning to get an eyeful of the shaken boy inside the armor.

Al would have blushed if he could have. He turned away from the scrutinizing gaze, thought of something, and looked back. "Um… sir? What did you have to talk to me about?" he asked.

Mustang shrugged. He leaned forward a little and smiled. "I just… y'know, thought that you might want to talk. Ed's gotten to a few times, but you haven't really had the chance, have you?" he offered.

Al paused, and then gave a hollow laugh. "Ed and I talk all of the time, Colonel! I don't… really _need_ the chance. I'd never leave my brother behind. _Never_." He assured.

"I never said that I thought you would. I never thought that you would. You and Ed are too loyal to each other. That doesn't mean that you don't need to talk. Don't want you to snap." Mustang shrugged.

Al chuckled, half out of respect, half because that thought was almost amusing. Almost. "Thanks, sir. I think."

Mustang nodded at him rather sarcastically. "Sure, kid."

They did chat, the two of them. For almost twenty minutes, just sitting there, talking about nothing. It seemed to help Al, to get his own feelings out without positively ruining Mustang's day. And it helped even more that Mustang treated him more like a human than he ever did, affectionately calling him 'kid' when he felt a name was good to be used.

Mustang looked down at his watch after the twenty minutes, sighed, and stood. "I should probably get going, Al, or Hawkeye will have my head." He paused, watched the armor boy, and mused, "you know, you don't have to be so official around me. You aren't even in the military. You can call me Mustang, or Roy if you want."

Al just shrugged. "Um… okay. Sorry to interrupt you, again. It was… important."

"Yes, I know that." Mustang assured gently. He gently touched the top of Al's head, promptly ruffling the bit of hair that was on the end. Al yelped in indignation and attempted to fix it, eventually resorting to just glaring at the chortling colonel.

Al thought of something more. "…Colonel, will Ed be okay?"

Mustang sighed at the use of his title, despite the reprimand only moments before. "Honestly, Alphonse? …I don't know. That's why I told him to come to me if he needs it. But he needs you now more than ever. I'm sure that he'll be fine, with a little support. You both will be."

Somehow, Al had a feeling that Mustang was talking about more than the attempted suicide.

**How was it? I liked this one. I love the way that Roy and Ed react, with Ed crying in his lap. It kind of seems a little OOC... but who cares? :D**

**Review, please? It'll be easier for me to get to my next chapter... Hughes!**

**Until next time, **

**~~YAJJ**


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